


[ Translation ] Myc's Palace

by Rhea_TheTime6



Series: Myc's Palace [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Inception Fusion, Childhood Memories, Gen, Holmes Brothers, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Mind Palace, Misunderstandings, My First Work in This Fandom, Mycroft To The Rescue, Not a Crossover, Not a Love Story, Past Character Death, Post-Season/Series 03, Protective Big Brother Mycroft, Sibling Rivalry, Translation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22872187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea_TheTime6/pseuds/Rhea_TheTime6
Summary: Mycroft went undercover in Eastern Europe in substitute for Sherlock, only to run into the worst. To protect secrets, Mycroft had to force himself into deep sleep, blocked in his mind palace. No one could find him in the palace, so  MI6 had no choice but to plead with Sherlock to sneak into Mycroft's mind palace seaching for him.But actually, it was far more difficult than expected, and only at that point did Sherlock find how little he understood his brother. In the process of rescuing Mycroft, Sherlock also discovered many of truths what Mycroft would've  never told him ....Where on the earth was Mycroft? Could Sherlock take Mycroft back before MI6 re-elected their leader?Obviously, our army doctor knew better than Mr. Consulting Detective about how to find the answers.Writer's Notes:Sort of Inception AU  ( even if you've never watched it, it will be okay, most of plot unrelated. I just want to clarify that I get inspiration from it. Thanks to Inception!), three brothers (Tom Hiddleston as a prototype of the third one >w<)
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Original Holmes Sibling(s)
Series: Myc's Palace [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1644154
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [【神探夏洛克】My's Palace 魔王宫殿 (三兄弟/思维宫殿/长篇完结）)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/562063) by 文沫回忆（WemoryWemory）. 



> Translator's Notes:  
> The whole fanfiction was finished before series 4 released, so Eurus is not existing, the third Holmes is Sherlock's elder brother( Shelley Holmes ), four years younger than Mycroft. Though writer rated it R, NO SEX should be highlighted, as it's not a slash but a story about family, friendship, and truths, all the relationships maintain what it was in post-series 4.
> 
> Myc's Palace is a great work acknowledged by most chinese Holmescest fans. An interesting fact is that I'm actually a Johnlocker, yet attracted and moved by it that I determined to translate it into English to let more fans see it!
> 
> The original work includes a main story (Myc's Palace, 190k words) and two extras (White & Black, 30k words each), such a Herculean task that I'm unsure whether I could finish it. As I'm not a professional English language student, all the mistakes belong to me, and I'm welcoming all your suggestions!
> 
> Beta desperately needed. If interested, email me or leave a comment.
> 
> Thanks for all your supports!

Gunshots roared.

It was silent inside the chamber, though, only punctuated by _pop_ from flaming firewood. Both of them stood still, their breath rising and falling against the continual cacophony of intense fighting.

Sherlock took a step forwards, looking up at Mycroft. He looked only a 5-year-old.

Mycroft stared at him as well, in a similar young figure. Both of their side faces were dyed bloody by fireplaces.

"Give it to me. NOW."

The gloss of iron resembled a solemn pray. Sherlock aimed at Mycroft, and Mycroft aimed at Sherlock, neither of their eyes possessed of lustre that was of their ages. The words spoken heard in a childlike tone, but scarcely with an innocent meaning.

Mycroft smiled quietly.

"GIVE ME THE KEY!" Sherlock took another aggressive step forwards. Mycroft stepped backwards in alert, his eyesight filled with frozen vigilance.

He wondered why he should be smiling after all.

"…I won't." Mycroft forced himself to hold the corners of the mouth upwards.

"Mr Holmes, it is plain what predicament you are in. You know it is never a bargain."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes threateningly, which looked ridiculous in a five-year-old. But targeted at by the life-threatened pistol, Mycroft couldn't smile anymore. He stared straightly into the pupils of Sherlock, pressing his lips tightly.

Booms thundered.

"Won't say that again. The key." said Sherlock, coldly.

Mycroft made as if to speak, and then stopped. At last, he made a wry smile under his breath, with quite a few implications, yet only a tinge of extraction with bitterness revealed.

Blaze flickered. Shadows on his face blurred his expression.

Behind Sherlock suddenly appeared a man, clutched at Sherlock's throat and threw him to the ground. Sherlock struggled, but he couldn't escape, for the sake of age gap, from the fetters of the man. Sherlock's pistol was thrown feet away. Mycroft came up to Sherlock, pressing the muzzle on his forehead.

"Spare your effort, Mr Holmes." Sherlock gave up struggling, yet laughing wildly and arrogantly. His face broadened into a grin, distorted with gasp, which made the familiar face quite queer. "You _know_ it's impossible to kill me."

"I _do_." Mycroft kept his smile calmly.

Slowly, yet firmly, he moved the muzzle away from Sherlock's forehead. The gun passed a jagged semi-circle, across the forehead of the expressionless young man, across the doorway, across the hanging pictures in the room, across Sherlock's instruments of experiments, and its destination was Mycroft's temples.

"!" Sherlock was stunned for an instant, and he eventually began to struggle desperately. He tried his best to pull himself away from the clamp of the man behind, but the man's green eyes had ever no blinkers. Sherlock looked a little flustered, and he screamed out, "Mycroft! Stop! Aren't you mad?!"

Mycroft grinned ironically, but hidden bitterness could be somewhere found at his corner of mouth.

He'd just got no choice.

"May God bless you." Mycroft faked a near-perfect smile, a sweet one, as if he were certainly a teenager.

Splashing blood dyed the flame, only scarlet dazzling and burning in the whole corner of memory .

_He was a winner who only lost himself._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John were invited to MI6, there they were told about Mycroft' failure and some secrets John had never heard about.

John pushed the door open and saw Anthea's grim face. This made John involuntarily take a breath of cold air. God, the secretary of the British government showing that expression, was Britain going to down to ruins? She didn't even wear lipstick! John grudgingly called out his mind's 'London has ten minutes to go to be blown flat by nuclear weapons' fantasy, licked his lips awkwardly and walked in.

"Where's Mr. Holmes?" Anthea stood up and politely seated John, but didn't say a greeting, with a deep exhaustion in her tone. John was even more embarrassed when she mentioned Sherlock. 

"Well, thank you." Watching Anthea bring him tea, John licked his lips again and tried to smile back politely. Thank God his lips weren't as cramping as they had been when he faced Mycroft, "And you know Sherlock... They have always been what they are like. Perhaps it's more likely to call in Sherlock if Mycroft calls him personally."

 _Or, rather less_. "The fatty's office only infects obesity and baldness, except which it's of no use at all." That's Sherlock's original story, and the sincerity in it nearly made John worry about his hairline. But John decided that he'd better not say it out.

"..." Anthea gave a quick glance at John, her sharp eyes making John's heart grasped suddenly. He might truly lose his hair, John thought, _scared off_. 

"I supposed that you could have convinced Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson."

"Oh, then you must have overrated me..." John raised his eyebrows and sipped tea, thinking of it that he would rejoice enough if not ordered here and there by Sherlock. To relieve himself of embarrassment, John put down the teacup and went on, "Well, I will put down words and passed on to Sherlock. I can wait for Mycroft if he is occupied at present."

"Doctor, of national security, it is forbidden that any form of information be let out. Anyway, It's hoped Mr. Holmes will show up here as soon as possible. Boss _does_ need his help. "

"..." so serious? John was rather disturbed. "Well, I'll try, but I don't think I can..."

"Mr. Holmes does anything for you but gives in to your persuasion?" Anthea squinted and said aggressively. Jesus, like boss, like secretary! John felt his blood run cold.

"I hope you would tell Mr. Holmes the urgency and gravity of what I said, and stress that boss needs him more than very much." 

"If Mycroft were in such trouble, he should have informed Sherlock himself…" said John unreleased. He was not their dispatch rider (though he did the same in fact) But when he found Anthea's unnatural expression, John was struck dumb, and a horrible thought hit him, " You don't say…"

"Please find Mr Holmes as soon as possible, please." Anthea closed her eyes and said a little weakly, her face white as a sheet.

John nodded in haste. He immediately pulled out his cellphone and dialed Sherlock – even if Sherlock hung him up ten thousand times this time, he was bound to force him to answer the phone!

Your brother's in great trouble, you wretch! Stop staying at home looking for inklings of Moriarty's comeback!

But the fact was clearly beyond his wildest imaginations. John heard Sherlock's phone ringing, so close, almost by his side. 

Before John could surprise it, he heard Sherlock's voice approaching from the doorway. 

"I must see him. _Now_." 

Sherlock's eyes were overflowing with seriousness and earnestness.

"A year and a half, he hasn't been in touch with me for a whole year and a half." Sherlock walked fast with his phone in the hand and said to John, his skirts of coat swinging in the wind, "The number of security cameras dropped by three a month. And a year and a half later, he was reduced to instructing his subordinates to call me. For fear that I would ignore it, they even hacked into your blog website and my mailbox." (What? That's blog!) I daresay that if Mycroft had known their so humiliating pleas, he would have made their whole families vanish from the earth forever. So? It isn't Mycroft's instructions but those good-for-notings' spontaneous action. They begged me because of family feud? Use your little brain to think of it, John! The only explanation is that Mycroft has met with a terrible accident. That bastard finally got burnt in playing with fire. Well done."

"..." John sighed, yet his mind turned the idea over that "You had known Mycroft's being in trouble but you didn't even want to show up?!" The army doctor got absent-minded when he heard the last sentence,which made him uneasy "...You ought not to say that, Sherlock. He's your brother. You should concern about him. "

"Oh John." Sherlock smirked and shook his head with disdain.

"Sherlock, you've been really good from your return, very human. Not only did you not have a finger in Molly's love affairs, but you also helped Greg find a nice girlfriend. And you even play the violin for Mrs Hudson in holidays. You can't exclude your brother intentionally – Hey, Sherlock! "

Watching the consulting detective striding along the corridor, unwilling to listen to his 'moral lesson', John had no alternative but to trot along to catch up with him. Damn his long legs!

"He went to Eastern Europe for an undercover operation. Substituted for me." Sherlock walked to Anthea, completely ignoring John's predicament ("Sherlock , wait!") "Not counting the time he was found and rescued, he must have stayed for at least a year."

"Yes." Anthea looked down for the key. The sound of high-heeled shoes echoed in the corridor.

"..." Sherlock screwed up his face slightly with some unclear emotions. After a short pause he went on furiously. "How did he fail? Tell me all. "

"The renegade subordinate, and enemies crafty enough." Anthea stood at a door and opened the door with the key. After nodding a greeting to guards in duty, she scanned her identity card to enter the next door. "We had much worse circumstances before, when three of our men had betrayed, but the enemies still failed to track down him. But this time... boss didn't even have time to do anything but transmit the intelligence back.

"Well, if the other side were not crafty, Mycroft couldn't have taken a hand in the operation personally. Oil issues or military defense?" Sherlock snorted in contempt as he watched Anthea check her fingerprints at the third door. Anthea didn't answer. "Hadn't he expected his being given away and made plan B in advance for the worst? How could he go so far as let you turn to me like headless flies? "

Doors and doors and doors. Not knowing where they led. Anthea got her iris examined by electronic scanner, and the three moved forward.

At length they reached an empty room, with only a faint sound of current as the machine was running. A large screen was placed in the center of the opposite wall, showing the seemed-sleeping Ice Man.

"Yes, but no one took it seriously." Anthea stood in front of the screen, looking sadly at Mycroft, who remained unconscious inside. In the screen they can only see Mycroft's pale face, closed eyes, as if he were trapped with endless dreams, "... Because he is Mycroft Holmes and everything. "

"Oh, God." John took a deep breath, murmured. "He looks not so good." He seldom had a friendly relationship with Mycroft, but it was sad to see him lifeless like that. But Sherlock didn't even change his expression, he squinted and dissected Mycroft's current situation.

Seconds later Sherlock turned to Anthea and said coldly: "I don't know why you looked for me, since he have been rescued." No one knew what he was thinking about. 

"Have been rescued?" John asked in astonishment. Sherlock gave him a that-was-obvious look (oh, there he goes again.) "I thought... "

"He's still in Eastern Europe? No, not really. Judging from the wall and bed, it's clear that Mycroft is just there for treatment." Sherlock gestured the corner. John looked in that direction, just to find no door or anything like that. ("Just a clever hiding, John.") 

There was no surprise on Anthea's face, while Sherlock seemed rather indifferent. "So Ms. Anthea, what are you for? Wanna me to be his babysitter? I can't understand why in the least."

He didn't even pause awhile to await any possible explanations, and headed straightly outwards as he snap. John hesitated as not knowing whether to follow or not. He glanced at Anthea somewhat in a fluster, finding her sort of exhausted.

The skirts of Sherlock's overcoat were churning.

" _Consciousness Blockade_ , Mr. Holmes." Anthea said weakly. Less than a whisper.

Sherlock's footsteps stopped abruptly, the last echo resounded scarily in the dead silence.

"Having cost them dear to capture a senior officer like boss, they beyond doubt invaded his brain for top-secret information. Boss reacted quickly, locking all the national importance they sought for in a chamber of his mind palace. So the enemies chased him and intercepted him all around, trying to get the keys." said Anthea, her calm tone just like narrating a story, "Boss was driven to the wall. In a bid not to leak secrets, he implemented Consciousness Blockade. The enemies were flustered and exasperated and did devastating wreckage to his body. While we'd sacrificed dozens of agents to rescue boss…"

"Waitwaitwait..." John was in complete confusion and cut in Anthea, in case that none of words would make the remotest sense to him if continuing so. He winked blankly and asked Anthea (As you can see, with Sherlock, you have to go in for the habit of asking questions all the time to catch up with his train of thought, even though it resulted directly in his utter contempt to you,) "Invade the brain? My ears served me right, didn't they?"

  
"Yes they did, John." Sherlock turned back and stared gravely at Anthea, "It is one way espionage agencies have employed to hack for intelligence in recent years. Oh, please John stop your TV-dramatic imagining - not so thrilling as you think." said Sherlock, suddenly flashed a smile on his cheeks, a smile which could be regarded as sort of derision. He shook his head and said , low-voicely: "So poor the intruders were. They must not have expected that they had entered the most magnificent mind palace in the world. I sincerely wish their pants hadn't been scared off."

"Your mind palace can be entered by _others_?"

"Even if a dream, John. As long as it exists in the brain." Sherlock raised eyebrows, pointing his finger at his own head, and slowly drawing circles with his fingers, "But Mycroft is a much harder nut to crack, eh? He can lock up his knowledge system, and even block his consciousness as well. How poor the intruders were. "

"Yes, thanks to his Consciousness Blockade, he had not ever disclosed any national secrets." Anthea turned away and looked at Mycroft, who was sleeping peacefully, "but difficulties were there - "

"That will do. I got it." Sherlock nodded, with fingers steepled under his chin, as if falling into a contemplative mood.

"...Excuse me but I didn't. Could either of you help explain it to me?" Well, there it went again, even worse off than ever. Poor John as the conversation was all Greek to him. He had been coming across a variety of queer things since his first encounter with Sherlock, but - wasn't it something just appearing in a science fiction? Jesus Christ, if things went on like this, would there be Iron Man about to save the world?

"...Consciousness Blockade, John." Sherlock signed and began to speak volubly, in a tone like teaching a child 'it-is-a-banana-and-it-is-edible'. "Mycroft locked himself up, so intruders couldn't find him, which means those fatheads of MI6 neither-"

"What do you mean, _Consciousness Blockade_?"

"... it means he committed suicide in his mind palace." Looking at John's still dazed expression, the detective took a breath, sort of irritated, said. "Outside he seems a vegetable, but actually he locked his consciousness up, only subconscious activity left in the mind... Oh, don't you understand, John! It was Mycroft himself who forced his consciousness asleep! So Mycroft can't come to because he's in absence of consciousness! Got it?"

"Mmhmm, I'm catching up a little. And then?"

"The problem is that, with Mycroft's consciousness blocked, he can't regain it on his own, which means someone eles's needed to unseal his blockade. But how could you unlock it when you even don't know where his Self-being is - no, John, I'll explain it." Aware John being at the point of saying something, Sherlock swiped at the air and stopped him, " Mycroft blocked his consciousness, but consciousness isn't something invisible in the Palace. He must be a tangible, solid presence. Consciousness will be randomly Attached by subconscious to something substantive - usually where a person would most like to stay, that is, the best memories. Namely, should you find the presence and unseal his blockade, Mycroft would come to. What's his worst plan? He must have told you what he's going to Attached to if things went wrong. "

"The deepest." Anthea shrugged and said ruefully, "And don't let Sherlock come into my mind palace. That's all."

"Oh... Seems he didn't really predict the worst happened." John signed. It was certainly known to all that Mycroft must be hiding in the deepest place he could. But 'don't let Sherlock come into my mind palace'? Why? He did believe in his men's abilities , or...

The detective said nothing. His eyesight fell into nothingness, as though going over and over that simple line for latent meaning.

"Yet it isn't the worst, failing to work out what he's Attached to." Anthea continued when John turned toward her." We should have found, had the original plan worked, the castle, and then, as boss said, groped for secret passageways to dungeons. But, rather more complicated than it seemed, our men were simply unlikely to carry out the plan once in. "

"All his memories, were Solidified. "

"Wait." Sherlock, staring at Anthea, was somewhat in a daze, "Memory Solidification?" 

"Exactly. It's not a room but a whole world. Namely, each room hides a world – That is because, we suppose, as his unconsciousness is equivalent to sleeping and dreaming, his subconscious erects all his memories up as a physical world."

"But... Isn't memory supposed to be physical? Just like the real world itself..."

"No! John, you don't understand the structure of our palace." Sherlock immediately replied before any more potential questions, seeming excited by Memory Solidification, his tone with a dramatic cadence. He pointed to his head and said, "Our mind palace is, as it were, a hard drive, John. All the memories are like programs. They are not 3D, but in classified boxes. When searching for them, we look through the boxes one by one, and many similar boxes put in one room, just like you setting up a lot of folders in your laptop. "

"....So, we're a bunch of programs in your heads."John paused a second and frowned, "Oh, Sherlock, sounds really disgusting. "

"Which means rooms in Mycroft's now exist not boxes, but the Solidified memories, all the fragments of his memories." Sherlock ignored John, excitedly rubbing his palms, eyes shining brightly, thinking at high speed, "Your people's inability to succeed, except not knowing what to look for, was more of it that how to get out from a room to another, since it's a world, which never has a door to exit, isn't it? Interesting..."

"Actually we've guessed the method of practical possibility, but it's hard, quite hard." Anthea leaned against the control devices below the screen, sighed, "Boss is like in a dream, so the very same way we waken from a dream will do to come out of a room to corridors of palace. But you know, it's of the same difficulty as in reality, pretty difficult. "

"Kill the Mycroft of that world, let him come out of the dream, and you can come out of that world. Kill Mycroft. How interesting. Within the range of Mycroft's acceptable thought invasion, your guys have to do what hasn't been managed by any terrorist organization for more than a decade. So funny..." Sherlock muttered. 

"And that's not all-it-all -"

"Not all yet?"John was nearly driven crazy. God, couldn't it be more complicated? Could Mycroft be saved after all these? Not knowing the target, even having trouble in getting out of a room. And yet, it's Not all! John finally realized why they could only plead with Sherlock - how could normal people manage it! 

"No, not all. When doing these, you shall not be discovered by his subconscious, or he'll kill you, and you'll be expelled from his brain." Anthea shrugged and said, "That's how many of us have been kicked out. We're even unable to exit the first."

"What? Subconscious can kill people?"

"No one wants their minds invaded by others, John." Sherlock rolled his eyes at John as if saying 'It's fairly obvious'. "Thanks that it's his subconscious in charge, he reacted slower, so he won't find you unless you make any big errors. If it's Mycroft's own consciousness, he would have found it as soon as there was an invasion. "

"What the big error means ... Blasting the palace?"

"What actually matters is _logic_ , John! Logic must not go any wrong!" Sherlock yelled dramatically, excited, "If your logic goes wrong, his mind will react immediately, for whoever in his position must have taken anti-mind-intrusion training. When he determines to attack, all the things in his world could be weapons to boom you into ashes!" Sherlock moved around hecticly. Though what he's saying was horrible, seamingly he's more and more interested, "Firstly, logic shall never have flaws. Secondly, numerous Mycrofts are bound to be killed. Thirdly, to seek clues in his world, fish for information, get his deepest. All three are indispensable to the rescue. Great one, a riddle linked with another, nothing could be better — "

An abrupt stop.

Something must have hit him, then all was still, as if time had suddenly frozen. John was scared to hold his breath. Something definitely came back to Sherlock.

"I know why he keeps me from his Palace." Sherlock said quietly, eyes widening open, his chin laying on his hands. 

Silence, long silence, like going through centuries. 

"Then, when will you start?" asked Anthea.

"..." Sherlock came out of his meditation. Instead of the thrill shown a moment ago, he looked as if nothing had happened, glared at Anthea and retorted, "I haven't said I'd accept the case."

"Hey, Sherlock, don't throw a tantrum!" John countered disgruntled , "It's anything but a simple 'case' !"

"Now MI6 has no leader, but it won't last. Although the Prime Minister was moved by boss's sacrifice, he could not keep the position open to him forever." Anthea breathed, and John noticed her hands shivering, " _Don't you know_ what that means, Sherlock Holmes?" 

"..."Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Mycroft will lose everything."

"He will be euthanized." Anthea's voice shaked.

"Oh, God..." John said incredulously, "how dare they! Mycroft has made such a sacrifice for queen and country, but they're going to kill him just because he was useless! It's just inhuman! "

"It makes sense." Sherlock, with a 'rightfully' expression on his face, agreeing with the way of addressing this issue, "he has so much in his hands that, even if he locked some of, others can be fatal to some people if leaked. To prevent invasion, killing him is the best choice. Anyway, he's worthless."

"Wouldn't you help your brother even if he was going to die?" Anthea was obviously enraged by Sherlock's reaction, her eyes red. "He's your brother!"

"...The moment he decided to block his mind, he knew the ending." Sherlock said coldly, "This is his choice. I can't help it."

"Sherlock!" John growled angrily, as if he were looking at a younger Sherlock, the cold-blooded and heartless one. It's strange, as Sherlock was sort of friendly to everyone now, yet as ruthless to his brother. "Take back what you said, now!"

"Who helped you wrestle with senior officials when you killed a man? You are simply ungrateful. How much has boss helped you, don't you know! " Anthea, who was a credit to the name of the Chief Secretary of MI6, quickly calmed down. Now that the family bonds didn't work, she turned to the owed favour. 

Sherlock's expression remained the same.

"He owes me." With that, Sherlock turned back, collar pulled up, and left. John was too annoyed to say anything but apologize to Anthea, and hurried to keep up with Sherlock, only to hear Sherlock saying, "Yet I'll think about it, considering that it's really an interesting case."

Around the corner, disappearing his back into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll come back in July or later next time so, my dear friends, just enjoy this one now!  
> Please leave you comments and kudos so that I can see!


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